


The Book of Memory

by ignipes



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-31
Updated: 2009-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is enough that she is unwed and with child far from home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Book of Memory

Hunith learns to read by candlelight in the midwife's cottage. At first the words and letters are incomprehensible, but Magda repeats the sounds over and over again, pointing with her gnarled forefinger, and Hunith whispers them to herself long after the old woman has gone to sleep.

Camelot is restful after dark, and when Hunith fetches water from the well she sees the guards pacing the castle ramparts. She wonders who sits awake in the rooms still glowing with yellow light. She wonder what they worry about so high and safe within the castle walls.

Over washboards and drying lines the women of the city gossip about the beloved queen and how rarely she shows her golden hair and sad smile, and how terrible it is she has not yet given the king a child. Hunith listens to the gossip but she does not pass it on. She feels her own child kicking in her belly and knows the women are wondering about her as well, if only because she is new and strange and alone. Madga has never asked about the child's father, and Hunith has never offered an explanation. It is enough that she is unwed and with child far from home.

The months pass and her belly swells. She is only somewhat soothed when Magda proclaims her as fit and healthy as a mother can be. On some nights she still dreams of fingers made of fire caressing her skin, tracing the lines of her face. She is as silent in her dreams as she was that night.

When she has read through all of Magda's herbals, the royal physician brings more books for her. "Knowledge is sacred," he tells her. "It should be shared."

Hunith is wary of Gaius; he watches her too closely, his eyes too sharp. But he is kind and he inquires sincerely after her comfort and the growth of her unborn child.

When he leaves, Madga sniffs and mutters under her breath, "You won't see him worrying so much about the prisoners dying beneath his tower."

Hunith's son is born at midsummer. The longest day stretches thin and bright, and the city is choked with foul smoke. There is an execution at the castle and through the open window, through the blood racing fearfully in her ears, Hunith hears the shouts of the soldiers calming unrest in the streets.

The sun sets, somewhere in the city ten accused sorcerers are dead, and Hunith screams through the final pangs of labor. Magda holds up a bloody, silent child and for a moment Hunith is terrified.

But then the child coughs and begins to wail heartily, and a grin breaks across Magda's craggy face.

"He's a boy," Magda says. "Meet your son, lovey. He's a good strong lad."

Magda ties off the cord and cleans the child, then wraps him in soft swaddling to place in Hunith's arms. She stares at him in wonder, her pain and exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

"Hello, my darling," Hunith whispers.

He stops crying at once. He watches her with wide, curious eyes and remains silent, patient, as though waiting to see what the world has to offer.

Hunith had wondered if she might hate him. She had feared she would see darkness and flames when she looked upon her son, but he is nothing but light and his eyes are the color of a clear summer sky. He is a warm, solid weight in Hunith's arms.

Magda bustles about the room humming as she cleans. "What will you call him?" she asks.

Months ago Hunith had left her father's home in humiliation and tears, and she had walked for hours along the road leading from the village. She rested beside a stream and cupped cool, clean water into her mouth. When she had her fill, she sat upon a fallen log and watched the hunting birds wheel overhead, graceful and soaring.

As the sun began to sink low in the sky she had understood that nobody was coming after her. They did not want her anymore.

"I'll call him Merlin," she says.

Magda looks at her sharply and there's a flicker of something sad and knowing in her eyes. But it's gone in an instant and she says, "Like the bird?"

Hunith presses a kiss to her son's forehead. "Like the bird," she agrees.


End file.
